Touch
by Kay111
Summary: For 221b-bitchstreet's prompt "Sherlock's hair (body/head), John's hands"


For 221b-bitchstreet's prompt "Sherlock's hair (body/head), John's hands" for the Johnlock Challenges' regift exchange.

Sherlock is property of the BBC, not me. Sadly.

Disclaimer: This is my first foray into writing porn for an audience... So.

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Sherlock climbs the stairs to the flat groaning, another case solves thanks to his talent for flawless disguise. This had required head to toe leather and extremely disheveled hair. John follows behind, shamelessly chuckling at the way Sherlock wiggles uncomfortable with each step.

Annoyed, Sherlock turns his head to glance at John as he remarks, "Just because I'm glad I solved that case does not lessen the fact that these trousers are the most uncomfortable thing to have ever been created. They are clinging in all the wrong places."

John raises an eyebrow and quips, "I'd say all the _right_ places."

"Enjoy the last three seconds of that view, because once we're in the flat, you're helping me out of this absurd disguise."

Once inside, John tosses his jacket onto the sofa and follows Sherlock down the hall to his bedroom. John flicks on the light, tosses back the duvet, then gently directs Sherlock to sit on the edge of the bed. He reaches down to grasp the hem of the leather shirt and tugs it up his torso and over Sherlock's head, careful not to catch any of the affixed studs in his hair. The shirt drops to the floor with an audible smack.

John watches in fascination as each of the sparse hairs on Sherlock's chest begin to spring back up from his skin. His hand reaches forward slowly, and Sherlock looks up at him. "John," he whispers, his voice rumbling impossibly deeper than usual. His tone expresses his desire better than a thousand more words ever could. John immediately realizes this is going to turn into more than just helping Sherlock out of a restrictive costume.

Pushing him backwards onto the bed, John leans forward to capture Sherlock's mouth in a quick, open mouthed kiss before pulling away. He looks down at Sherlock's chest and arms, again watching the now free hairs slowly spring up. He decides to aid in the process. John climbs on the bed atop Sherlock, straddling his hips. He moves his hands to Sherlock's wrists, and slowly runs his palms up Sherlock's forearm, pushing the hairs upward. Once he reaches the elbow, he smoothes his hands back down to Sherlock's wrists. Now he splays his fingers and runs his fingers back up Sherlock's forearm, causing each hair to stand on end. Sherlock sighs contentedly. He continues up to Sherlock's shoulders before removing his hands.

John circles each of Sherlock's wrists with his fingers and places Sherlock's hands above his head on the mattress. He presses down slightly, a wordless command to maintain this position.

John sits back on his heels again; Sherlock is watching with hooded eyes, a seductive smile twisting one corner of his mouth upwards. John reaches out to Sherlock's chest. He stops right before his fingers make contact with skin. John can just feel the light hairs - such contrast from those on Sherlock's head - against his palms and fingertips. Maintaining this distance, his hands hover over Sherlock's pectorals, only his thumbs lowering each time they pass over a nipple. This near imperceptible contact is the kind Sherlock loves best. It lights his skin aflame, and turns his senses all the way up, allowing the rest of the world to fade away.

As he continues, John can feel Sherlock's hips canting upward between his thighs, an erection forming - still trapped in more leather. John's hands move down Sherlock's abdomen, teasing along the centered trail of hair, still avoiding skin contact, and circling his navel with fingertips. John guides his hands south, closing the tiny distance to increase pressure on the thickening trail of hair above the band of Sherlock's trousers. He repeatedly cards his fingers through this hair, causing it to stand on end. He then lifts his hands to be, once again, far enough from skin as to just graze the hair. A low rumble rises from Sherlock's throat at this barely there contact. John lifts his head to smile in reply.

The waistband sits obscenely low on Sherlock's hips, and John runs a fingertip just under the edge, from one hipbone to the other. He delights in the goosebumps that form in the wake of his touch; he'll always love how incredibly responsive Sherlock's skin is to such light touches.

Pulling his hands away, John steps down onto the floor and reaches to undo the button and flies on the trousers. He grasps the band and Sherlock lifts his hips. As John pulls the trousers down, he pauses to smile at Sherlock's choice to forego pants. He continues smiling as he slowly pulls the trousers lower and Sherlock's cock springs free. He slowly finishes removing the trousers. Once his legs are free, Sherlock scoots so legs are fully on the bed and his head is resting on the pillows. He lifts his arms to resume the position John had placed them in, grasping the headboard. When he's done adjusting, he looks up to see John has stripped out of his clothes as well.

John moves to kneel on the foot of the bed, taking Sherlock's left ankle in hand. He lifts Sherlock's leg off the bed and circles the ankle with his hands. He stills, watching as the hair on Sherlock's leg begins to unstick now that it's free. John moves his hands up Sherlock;s calf and thigh slowly, moving hair against the grain, causing Sherlock to hum. Once his hands reach the place where Sherlock's thigh meets his body, John removes them. He circles Sherlock's right ankle with his hands and repeats. When he finishes with that leg, he places his palms on the mattress on either side of Sherlock's hips, and leans down to press his lips against each hipbone. He lifts his head and re-employs his hands.

John lays his palms flat on the top of each of Sherlock's thighs and slowly moves them toward the nest of hair at the base of his erection. He slides his fingers through the thick curls, being careful not to touch Sherlock's cock yet. Sherlock begins to impatiently wiggle his hips, attempting to provoke John into touching. John quickly moves his hands to Sherlock's hips and presses them down into the mattress. Another silent command of stillness. Sherlock sighs in exasperation, but stills himself.

John continues ghost his fingers across the coarse hairs, once again, just short of contact with Sherlock's skin. He slowly lowers his fingertips with each caress until he is massaging the skin around the base of Sherlock's cock. Even without having been touched yet, precome begins to leak from the tip and form a small pool in the dip below his navel.

Sherlock groans in impatience and John laughs. John ceases teasing and grasps Sherlock's cock. He strokes it, while Sherlock thrusts upward into his fist. John tightens his grip and quickens his hand, bringing Sherlock nearly to the edge before releasing him.

"Turn over," John instructs as he retrieves the lubricant from the side table drawer.

Sherlock positions himself on his knees and elbows. John squeezes some lubricant onto his fingers and presses against Sherlock's hole. Sherlock pushes back against it and John's finger slips inside. One finger soon becomes two. John works his fingers, opening Sherlock up until he can add a third.

Once Sherlock is ready, John takes his own cock in hand pushes into Sherlock slowly. Sherlock thrusts backwards quickly, taking all of John. John moans in surprise and pleasure. He stills for a moment as Sherlock grumbles, "Not having any of that slow shit right now, John."

John obliges, reaching forward to Sherlock's head and threads his fingers through Sherlock's hair, massaging his scalp before taking a firm hold. His other hand grips Sherlock's hip as he slides his cock out. Sherlock does a small, tortuous rotation with his hips and John thrusts back in. Using Sherlock's hair and hip as leverage, John finds a hard rhythm they are both satisfied with.

Bracing on one elbow, Sherlock reaches between his thighs and fists his cock, stroking himself slowly, in contrast with John's speed. "Fuck, Joh-... Nnnn. John. I'm-"

"I'm close, Sherlock," John replies. For once he's more articulate than his lover.

"Slow down... Hard. But slow."

"Mmmhmm." John slows his thrusts, but maintains the force behind them.

It's not long before Sherlock's body stiffens clenches around John as he comes and John follows.

They practically collapse into a heap on the bed and John tugs the duvet over them.

As Sherlock curls his limbs around John and lays his head on John's shoulder, he sighs. "If that's the result, I'll suffer through wearing those trousers again..."


End file.
